Chapter 1
Ever since my father died a year ago, I had been living under my aunt Cecilia’s roof, sharing a home with her and her two daughters, Emma and Valencia. It was never truly my home, no matter how long I stayed.
That night, I came back drunk, barely able to keep my eyes open. I had barely stepped through the door and found the strength to look up when I came face-to-face with the last person I wanted to deal with at that hour.
My aunt Cecilia. As I enterd the house drunk she was there infront of me. Cecilia was a striking forty-year-old woman with long, straight black hair, sharp, piercing eyes, and delicate yet defined facial features. She carried the kind of tits that made men forget how to speak. Heavy, full, and almost obscenely large, they sat high on her chest even without a bra, the soft weight of them swaying with every step. When she wore that thin black lace, the cups barely managed to contain them, the dark fabric stretched tight across the thick undercurve, the deep cleavage a dark, inviting shadow. Her nipples were wide and sensitive; the slightest chill or the lightest brush of fabric made them stiffen and push against the lace until the shape of them was impossible to miss. When she arched her back they rose even higher, the soft flesh spilling over the top of whatever tried to hold them.
And then there was her ass.
Thick. Round. Heavy. The kind of ass that filled a man’s hands completely and still left more. Soft, warm flesh that jiggled when she walked, when she bent, when she simply shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The black lace thong was almost a joke against it, a thin strip of fabric swallowed between two full cheeks, the soft undersides of her ass completely exposed, the dimples above her hips deepening every time she moved.
And every time she did, the air in the house got a little harder to breathe.
As she started screaming at me about coming home drunk, I felt something vibrate inside my pocket.
The Wired phone I found.
I pulled it out, intending to switch it off, but the screen was already glowing.
The strange application was open, displaying numbers and statistics I barely understood.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced at the screen.
TARGET DETECTED.
SUBJECT PROFILE
Target ID: 001
Emotional Analysis Towards You
SUBJECT: Cecila— SCANNED
Core Emotions:
Love : 60/100
Charisma : 20/100
Desire : 1/100
Passion : 0/100
Trust: 52/100
Affection : 12/100
Curiosity : 15/100
Jealousy : 2/100
Anger : 80/100
Hatred : 0/100
Personality & Relationship
Emotional stability : 76/100
Social confidence : 84/100
Current mood : Angry
Relationship status : Family
System Information
Manipulation Techniques : Locked.
Hidden Traits
Unidentified — further analysis required.
System Level
Level 1 · 0 experience points
The screen flickered.
A faint vibration ran through the phone, and two options appeared before my eyes.
[CHOICE AVAILABLE]
OPTION 1: Assert Your Authority
Get angry and tell her you’re a man now and know what’s best for you.
Charisma: +5
Anger: +3
Curiosity: +2
Trust : -2
OPTION 2: Tell the Truth
Admit what really happened and stop hiding behind excuses.
Love: +3
Charisma: -2
Anger: -30
OPTION 3: None of the Above
Refuse both choices and respond in your own way.
Charisma: +0
Anger: +0
Curiosity: +0
Love: +0
[NO STAT CHANGES]
[SELECT YOUR RESPONSE]
“Yeah, whatever.”
I was far too drunk to care. My vision was blurry, my head was spinning, and the words on the screen barely made sense. I just wanted the damn thing to shut up.
I tried to close the app, but my drunken fingers slipped across the screen.
[CHOICE CONFIRMED]
“Shit, what did I just—”
Before I could finish, a strange sensation spread through my chest. My heart started pounding, and a sudden wave of anger washed over me.
I wanted to tell Cecilia I was sorry. I wanted to explain that I’d had a terrible night and just needed to be left alone.
But when I opened my mouth, the words that came out were completely different.
I couldn’t stop them.
I stood up.
“I SAID IT’S MY DECISION!”
My own voice startled me, but I couldn’t stop. The words kept pouring out of my mouth, louder and angrier with every sentence.
“It’s my choice! I choose to drink! I’m grown up now! I’m a man, and I can drink as much as I fucking want! I can do whatever I want!”
My fists clenched. My chest tightened. It felt as though something had taken hold of me, pushing my anger to the surface and forcing me to say things I hadn’t even thought about.
HOLY SHIT. WHAT HAVE I DONE?
My aunt Cecilia stood there, staring at me in stunned silence.
She didn’t argue. She didn’t yell back. She just watched as I stumbled past her and headed straight for my room.
I slammed the door behind me.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
And then, as I collapsed onto my bed, the memories came rushing back.
Four hours earlier…
She was kissing him.
My girlfriend. The girl I’d loved more than anyone in the world.
And the guy she was kissing?
My best friend.
They were standing inside a store, so caught up in each other that they hadn’t noticed me behind them. I stood there, frozen, staring at the two people I trusted most as they destroyed everything I thought I knew about love.
Then I ran.
I ran as far away as my legs could carry me. Tears streamed down my face without me even noticing. My hands trembled, my breathing became ragged, and my heart pounded painfully against my ribs.
I didn’t know where I was going.
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
I was 1. I’d never experienced heartbreak like that before. I’d never imagined that the people closest to me could hurt me so badly.
And suddenly, I had nobody.
Before I knew it, I found myself standing in front of a bar.
I’d been there before, years ago, when my father was still alive. He used to sit at the counter with a beer while I played nearby, too young to understand why adults sometimes needed a drink after a long day.
Back then, the place had felt warm and familiar.
That night, I entered it as a broken boy desperately trying to convince himself he was a man.
The tears were still running down my cheeks when I sat at the counter.
The bartender looked at me. Perhaps he noticed my red eyes, my trembling hands, or the way I struggled to keep myself together.
He didn’t ask questions.
He simply placed a small shot glass in front of me.
“On the house, kid.”
I drank it without thinking.
Then came another.
And another.
I lost track of time somewhere between the burning alcohol and the memories I couldn’t escape. I didn’t know how many drinks I’d had. I didn’t care.
Eventually, I stumbled out of the bar.
It was already two in the morning.
The streets were almost empty, and I could barely walk straight. I tried to remember the way home, taking one unsteady step after another.
Then the rain started.
At first, it was just a few drops.
Then the sky opened up.
“Fuck this.”
I kept walking.
“Fuck the world.”
The rain soaked my clothes, plastered my hair against my forehead, and ran down my face, mixing with the tears I hadn’t managed to stop.
“Fuck everything!”
My voice echoed through the empty street.
“Why me? Why the fuck does this always happen to me?”
I looked up at the dark sky, barely able to keep my balance.
“WHY, GOD?!”
My throat hurt. My chest ached. My entire body felt like it was falling apart.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!”
But the sky gave me no answer.
Only more rain.
I kept walking, barely aware of where I was going, until I found myself passing a small park.
I didn’t have the energy to keep walking in the rain. My clothes were soaked, my shoes squelched with every step, and my head felt like someone was beating it with a hammer.
“Fuck it…”
I stumbled into the park, searching for somewhere to hide from the storm. That’s when I spotted a small shelter tucked away between the trees. It looked old, forgotten, and barely worth noticing, but at that moment, it was the closest thing to a refuge I could find.
I staggered inside and dropped into a battered chair.
“Finally…”
For a few minutes, I just sat there, breathing heavily and listening to the rain hammer against the roof.
Then something struck my leg.
“What the hell?”
I looked down. Something small had fallen beneath the table—or perhaps it had been there all along. I bent forward clumsily and picked it up.
A phone.
At least, it looked like one.
It was an unfamiliar device, with a strange design and a screen that seemed far too clear for something I’d found in a rundown park shelter. I turned it over in my hands, searching for a logo or a brand name.
Nothing.
When I switched it on, I discovered that it had only one application.
Just one.
I stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. The app displayed human emotions, complete with numbers, statistics, and strange options that supposedly allowed someone to influence them.
Love. Desire. Passion. Trust. Anger. Hatred.
There were even hidden techniques and instructions for increasing each emotion.
I blinked at the screen.
Then I burst out laughing.
“Holy shit. What kind of bullshit is this?”
A magical phone that could control people’s feelings? Seriously?
Had someone made this as a prank? Was I so drunk that I’d started hallucinating?
“Whatever. I’ve officially lost my fucking mind.”
I shoved the phone into my pocket and struggled to my feet.
By the time I finally reached home, I was exhausted, soaked, and barely capable of thinking straight. I didn’t care about the strange device anymore. I just wanted to crawl into bed and forget that this miserable night had ever happened. And that’s where I found aunt cecelia waiting for me.
Cecila :
